


In other words

by februarymist



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ice Skating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28290579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/februarymist/pseuds/februarymist
Summary: Hank surprises Connor with a visit to an unknown location.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21
Collections: New ERA Discord: Festival of Prompts





	In other words

Connor drummed his fingers on his lap to the rhythm of the instrumental jazz song playing in his aural components. His eyes were covered by a sleep mask, his geolocalisation turned off. All he perceived was the music, the vibrations of the car on the road, and Hank's presence in the driver's seat next to him. 

Connor hadn't wanted to ruin Hank's surprise and had indulged in his demands ("no peeking, no Google mapping" he had said, while slipping the mask over Connor's visual receptors). He had let himself be guided to the car, off to an unknown location.

Connor's processors buzzed with anticipation, but he stayed offline. The pay-off would be worth it. Connor remembered fondly when Hank had secretly driven them to the East Coast last summer, and when he had laid his eyes on the expanse of the Atlantic Ocean under the morning sun.

They rode for about twenty minutes, and Connor kept himself from calculating the various locations Hank could have taken him to in that time range around the house.  
Hank opened the passenger side door and Connor held out his hand for Hank to take it. He wrapped his fingers around the back of Hank’s hand, letting himself be guided up a few steps and through the door Hank had stopped to hold out for him.

“Hi, Hank!” a cheerful feminine voice was heard, coming about one meter and a half in front of Connor. Connor analysed that the woman was around Hank’s age. “And you’re Connor, right?”

“Pleased to meet you,” Connor replied, nodding. “And you would be…”

“Name’s Agnes. Old friend of Hank. He really went all out with the surprise thing, didn’t he?”

Connor could feel in her voice the smile on her lips as she spoke. “I don’t mind. Can I take this off, now?”

“In a few,” Hank intervened. He slightly pulled on Connor’s hand, and Connor followed him diligently. A hallway, another door opened. The first thing Connor noticed was a drop in temperature. Hank let go of his hand.

“You can look now.”

Connor quickly untied the knot at the back of his head.

In front of him, the ice rink shone brightly under the spotlights. Quiet and empty. Back online, Connor quickly figured out where they were, and that they were past closing hour already.  
To his left, he saw Agnes carrying a pair of white ice skates.

Thirty-six days ago, Hank had turned the television on, for background noise more than anything. There was a local news report about Detroit native Taylor Davis winning the gold medal at the Grand Prix of Figure Skating Finals. Connor had been mesmerized by the excerpts of his free skating program. A perfect balance of power and swiftness as he slid on the ice before jumping and spinning in the air, his body supple as a vine as he leaned back to touch the ice with his fingertip for his next move.

Connor had thought about it all morning and had been secretly aching to try this himself. Well, perhaps not so secretly.

He looked at Hank with a smile. “Thank you,” he said.

“So, I take it I got this right?”

“More than right, Hank. This is… wonderful.”

Connor quickly put on the skates Agnes offered, and stepped alone on the ice, the blades slightly digging into the ice. He tentatively slid his right foot forward, assessing the friction between the blade and the ice. He took off in big strides, cool air on his face as he reached the middle, then traced a large arc to the bottom left corner of the rink. The sensation of gliding on the ice was incredible; moving so smoothly and quickly across the surface made him feel weightless. He had simulated it, retreated into his preconstruction software in his free time, but the simulation, no matter how realistic it was, didn’t compare to living it.

“Excuse me if this sounds a bit too much, but… could it be possible to have music?” Connor asked, looking at the mounted speakers around the rink.

“Oh, sure thing!” Agnes answered, and she walked up to a booth to the left of the rink’s entrance. Connor got the notification for a newly recognized audio device moments after she turned the music player back on.

“Thank you.” He looked at Hank, hunched over the barrier, eyebrows raised. He smiled at him and connected himself to the player.

He took off on the ice as the music started. A quick glance at Hank told him he immediately recognized the song. Connor, he read on his lips.

Fly me to the moon. A classic, and Connor knew his music choice didn’t stand out by its originality, but it was one of his and Hank’s favorite songs. An intemporal bop, Hank had said about it.

He skated to the middle of the ring, before jumping, his body spinning in the air before landing on both feet, to Hank’s cheering. Agnes pulled out her phone and started recording. Connor’s lips stretched into a pleased smile, before transitioning to a spin.  
His programming and his biocomponents allowed for him to do the wildest jumps, smashing the boundaries of what humans could do – but all Connor cared for now was to create something beautiful. Some things that came easy to humans, like smiling and laughing and expressing one’s wants and needs, he still struggled with. But he knew his body, had absolute control over it, and he hoped to use it as a tool of expression. He knew Markus painted, that androids had started composing and recording music for their enjoyment, and not for some studio who would have bought them to do it. Perhaps, figure skating could be his thing. He liked the idea when he first saw the news bite, and now that he was the one spinning on the ice, he loved it. He would ask Agnes to share her video with him.

The song came to an end, Connor stopping and cheekily pointing at Hank as the last sentence echoed through the room. Hank made a little show of placing his hand over his heart, eyelashes fluttering as he mimicked fainting on the spot. They grinned widely at each other from across the rink before Connor skated back to the barrier. 

“How was it?” He asked, leaning on the barrier.

“Beautiful,” Hank said. “As always,” he added, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair out of Connor’s face – more of an excuse to touch him than anything, as Hank’s hand slid down to frame the side of Connor’s face.

“Do you want to try it, too?” Connor asked.

Hank’s smile faded. “Errr… I’m… I don’t think I’m going to be any good at this.”

“I don’t mind, Hank.” Connor stared into Hank’s eyes. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want- “Hank began, before interrupting himself. “I didn’t bring you here, so you’d have to wait on me and watch me fall on my ass every three seconds. And having to pick me off the floor every three seconds. I mean… That’s for you, you know. To have fun. I’m not sure it’s going to be any fun for you when you can spin faster than the washing machine and I could barely stand on my own two legs.”

Connor placed a hand over Hank’s. “First, I think you’re selling yourself short. Second, even if that were an accurate assessment to your skill, I don’t think I would care. I would still enjoy skating with you. I would find it fun.”

Hank kept mum, short on arguments, debating within himself on what decision to take. Connor had the perfect tool to sway him in his favor. He tilted his head slightly to the left, eyebrows raised. “Please, Hank?”

“Okay, fine,” Hank finally said. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

A few minutes later, Hank stepped out on the ice, legs spread in a way that reminisced Connor of a documentary on penguins.

“Don’t laugh,” Hank said. He was breathing heavily, one hand still firmly holding onto the barrier. 

“I would never,” Connor said.

Hank held out his free hand, and Connor took it, standing as still as possible and accommodating for Hank’s weight. A few seconds later, Hank let go of the railing.

“What now?”

“Bend your knees a little, there you go,” Agnes advised. “Okay, then put your weight on your left leg, and push away with your right.”

“Oh Jesus,” Hank said, before gliding forward, away from the edge. Connor stopped them both.

“You’re doing great!” Agnes said. “Now again, but with the other leg! And keep your torso straight!”

Connor wrapped an arm around Hank’s waist, and Hank gripped Connor’s shoulder like a drowning man a life preserver.

“You won’t fall,” Connor assured.

“Don’t set your hopes too high,” Hank said. He leaned on his left leg and pushed them on the ice a third time. His whole body was shaking as he was struggling to find his balance. But there was a smile – small and tense, but a smile nonetheless – on his face.

“I mean it. Even if you start falling, I will catch you before you hit the ground. I promise.”

A fourth push, and they gently glided all the way to the middle of the rink.

“Hey, look at us,” Hank whispered to him, after looking around.

“Look at you. That was all you. I was just here to provide support,” Connor corrected. “I would also like to point out that it has been sixteen seconds and you still haven’t fallen on your ass yet.”

Hank chuckled softly, the low sound resonating through Connor’s aural sensors. It was a lovely sound.

Connor leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, attuning himself to Hank’s breath and heartbeat, to the heat from his body in the sharp cool air of the ice rink.  
“I love you, Hank.”

“Love you too, Connor.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for posting this ten (10) days after the prompt day, but better late than never I guess. Also I miss Yuri on Ice. I know nothing about ice skating outside of some youtube video tutorials.
> 
> Written for New ERA's festival of prompts, december 14 prompt : ice skating


End file.
